


In Limbo

by The_Buzz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caring John Winchester, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt John Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Winchester Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Buzz/pseuds/The_Buzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night in Purgatory, Dean is surprised to encounter his father. But what is John doing there? And more importantly, how will his sons deal with his return? ON HIATUS FROM POSTING UNTIL ALL CHAPTERS ARE FINISHED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

The crackling of the small fire was pleasant and Dean let his thoughts drift. It wasn't every night they made one—there was no real need to cook, and fire could draw monsters like a beacon—but today had been both unusually cold and unusually slow in the monster department, and so Dean and Benny had made the decision together. Fire. Now Dean sat with his back to a stump, one knee up and the other leg out before him, sharpening his blade, and Benny sat not quite across from him but not quite with him either, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. In the flickering glow the night felt almost peaceful.

"Ever do this as a kid?" Benny asked.

Dean glanced up from his blade. "Do what?" he asked.

"This." Benny shrugged. "Campfire. Time was I could sit out there for hours on a summer night, just watching the flames and listening to the woods around me. Good days, those."

"Oh." Dean shook his head, and watched a little wistfully as one of the logs collapsed, sending up a shower of embers. "Nah. Not really. I mean, Dad taught us some marine stuff but we never just sat out there. Couple of times at Bobby's I guess." He snorted softly. "Tried to roast marshmallows with Sammy once or twice but it turns out people don't like ten-year-olds setting fires in motel parking lots."

"Well," Benny said, "you missed out."

Dean nodded, setting the blade down. It was sharp enough. "I'm getting that."

They fell into companionable silence again, sitting that way until the fire started to gutter. They'd been at this for weeks, now, running, fighting, searching for Cas, and slowly Dean was beginning to feel something unexpected—friendship. And more than that, he was actually beginning to trust the guy. It was more than he could say for anyone, really, since Cas's betrayal, though of course Cas was…a special case.

He was pulled from his thoughts a second time by a foreign sound in the woods behind them, the subtle but unmistakable crackle of leaves underfoot, and it was close. Much closer than Dean should ever have allowed it to be. Well, this was the price they paid for their fire and their peace. No different from the way things were at home, really, but at least here the tradeoff was unambiguous.

In a fluid motion he met Benny's eyes, grabbed his blade and stood, pivoting to meet the threat behind him, and he could see Benny doing the same, fangs extending. As soon as Dean was up the creature shot toward him. Impossible to tell in the flickering firelight what monster the soul had belonged to but as Dean ducked a forceful blow by a spiked weapon he caught a glimpse of wild eyes and thick hair and ragged clothes—something familiar about it all but he couldn't say what—then the moment was gone, the figure out of the dying firelight and charging at him again. They parried and hacked for a few seconds—damn it this monster was good—until Dean turned and swung with his blade but missed, the ragged man letting Dean's momentum carry him forward slamming the club into the side of Dean's leg just above the knee. Dean dropped to the rocky ground with a yell but as he did Benny came up from behind, taking his place. He and the monster traded blows quickly as Dean stumbled to his feet but when Benny landed a forceful punch to the man's side he doubled over with a grunt and Dean saw his in. He charged forward and rammed the man against the nearest thick tree trunk, knocking the makeshift mace out of his hand and holding his blade to the man's throat, snarling the question he asked of every monster they defeated.

"Where's the angel?"

"The what?" the man snapped.

More than anything it was his voice—gruff, irritated but so much the same—that made Dean freeze and stare at the face in the orange glow of the dying fire, unbelieving. For the man's voice, his eyes, the way he moved and fought weren't just familiar, he was— "Dad?"

John Winchester stared at him, equally uncomprehending. "Dean?"

Dean blinked several times but his father's face didn't leave his vision, haggard and angry but unmistakably Dad under the beard and the grime and a long scar clipping one ear. Dean let his blade relax, though he'd seen enough in Purgatory to know not to let it drop completely, and asked breathlessly, "What the hell?"

John, or at least the man who looked like John, glanced down at the blade still pinning him to the tree, then back up at Dean. "Silver blade?" he asked.

Dean nodded reflexively, aware Benny was watching with interest but completely at a loss to explain anything for himself, let alone to the vampire. "Yeah," he said, drew a small knife out of his back pocket, flipped it open, and used it to slice the arm still holding the larger weapon to his dad's throat. When nothing happened John nodded, once, chin scraping Dean's blade, and raised his arm slowly for Dean do the same. The skin split but there was no tell-tale hiss and after a moment Dean put the small knife back in his pocket, took half a step back, and let the arm holding his stone cleaver drop.

"Dad," he said, then shook his head, opening and closing his mouth a few times before other words actually found their way out. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," John said.

"I thought you went to Heaven," Dean said. "After Yellow Eyes—you went up in a flash of light—how did you end up here?"

"Never made it," John said, shrugging slightly. Dean blinked, still trying to process the fact that this conversation was happening at all, let alone the words his father was saying. He glanced at Benny and the vampire was watching impassively…but then how could he possibly know what this meant? How crazy this was? "Felt something grab a hold of me," John went on. "Everything got brighter and I thought I was on my way upstairs. Then it all stopped and I was here. Like I got yanked back. Don't know why." He narrowed his eyes at Dean. "Why are you here? Did you die? What about Sam? Is Sam all right?"

Dean shook his head. One thing at a time. "Sam's fine," he said. "And I'm not dead, at least I don't think so." As for the rest of the story, well, the full version would probably take a whole hell of a lot more time than he wanted to spend just then. Not to mention dredge up several things he wasn't sure he wanted his father to know. "Had a run-in with some leviathans back home," he said simply. "Turns out you explode one, it sends you here. Been running and hunting since." And looking for Cas. But that was really a story for another day.

"You know your footwork is rusty," Dad said. "Never used to be so easy to knock you down."

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but closed it without a sound, caught halfway between a reflexive yes sir and arguing that his fighting technique was just fine, especially considering he'd recently spent weeks in a full leg cast. But it was more than that. This was Dad. The man he'd alternately loved and mourned and hated and feared he was becoming, over and over again, and they were practically making small talk in the gray wasteland of Purgatory as though none of the last seven years—the last thirty years—had happened. What made it stranger was that he'd imagined this moment so many times after Dad died. Wishing for forgiveness or revenge or simply answers…and now that he was here he had no idea what to do. He wanted so many things—to reach out and envelop him in a hug, to hit him as hard as he could, to shove him against the tree again and demand explanations for every choice that had screwed him and Sammy from the day Mom died to the day Dad leaned over his bed and told him he'd have to kill his brother if he couldn't save him—but instead, he just stared, and Dad stared back. An eerie sense of déjà vu reminded Dean of the last time they'd stood almost like this, their positions reversed, a monster looking out through Dad's eyes and spouting words that had reverberated in his mind for years after because they were so true. But things had changed. Dean had changed. And he had absolutely no idea what to say.

"I hate to break up this moment," Benny said.

Both Dean and John's heads snapped toward the vampire, who raised his hands in a pacifying motion.

"What's up?" Dean said, immediately alert. He stepped back from John a bit more and scanned the woods around them, tightening his grip on his blade.

"Just hoping someone could fill me in on what's going on here," Benny said.

Oh. Dean let out a breath and let the weapon drop again. He'd grown used to Benny's vampire senses picking up approaching monsters he'd been ready to fight at the sound of his companion's voice. Of course it was a good thing they weren't being attacked but to be honest he might have welcomed the distraction. Hunting here was simple. Pure. Figuring out what to do with any of these feelings… not so much. "Benny, this is my father," Dean said, then let out a single laugh and gestured between them because he couldn't think of anything else to do. "John, Benny. Benny, John."

"Nice to meet you, John," Benny said.

John didn't return the greeting. Instead, he glared at Dean as soon as the vampire had spoken. "You're hunting with a vampire." It was more a statement than a question, and the betrayal in his voice was plain. Dean wondered at for a moment until he remembered that Dad had never met vampires who didn't drink people, nor demons who'd put aside their hate to work on a common cause nor angels who'd fall for a couple of humans. In Dad's world the supernatural was always wrong, and to him any alliance was akin to selling one's soul. Somehow, Dean imagined, neither a century in Hell nor five years in this wasteland had done much to dispel that belief.

He sighed softly and answered anyway, though he knew it was probably futile. "Benny's been nothing but good to me, Dad," he said, and Benny gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. "He also knows the way out."

"There's a way out?" Dad stared at Benny again, disbelieving, and addressed him directly for the first time since they'd met. His voice took on a strange timbre that might have been hope. "You know a way out?"

"Soon as Dean finds his angel," Benny smiled.

At this, however, John's eyes narrowed again and he studied Dean. "You did ask me about an angel," he recalled. "What does that mean?"

"Angels are real," Dean said, shrugging. He remembered his own introduction to that fact, and how little he'd wanted to believe it, but he couldn't exactly fathom a way to break the news gently. "God, Heaven, all of it. God's been kind of an absent dickbag, though."

"Can't be," John said, glancing between Dean and Benny as if the vampire could offer some kind of reason. "There's no such thing. I'd know."

"I thought so too, Dad," Dean said softly. Benny nodded. "Believe me. They're real. Most of 'em, you wouldn't want anything to do with, but Cas…"

"The angel you're looking for," John clarified. Dean could practically see the gears working in his head, the lines in his forehead deepening in disapproval. But then, Dad had never welcomed the unknown, and to Dad Cas had to seem as unnatural as Benny and just as undeserving of real concern. Still, if this was going to work at all, he had to try to make him understand.

"Cas is my friend," Dean said, ignoring the way the disbelief on his dad's face shifted until it bordered again on betrayal, or worse, disappointment. He set his jaw and gazed back at Dad evenly. "And I'm not leaving here without him."


	2. Chapter Two

John had surprisingly little to say about Dean's declaration. "An angel is your friend?" he asked. He sounded doubtful, but the stress had been ever so slightly on the word friend—as though that were the unbelievable part. It rankled a little bit but then, Dean supposed, Dad had never seen him (never let him) have a friend before.

"Yeah," Dean said, the word coming out more defensively than he'd intended. "He's also saved my ass more times than I can count."

"How did this happen?" John asked.

"It's a long story," Dean said. A long story he had no intention of telling any time soon. Dad didn't need to know he'd been to Hell, nor that he'd started the apocalypse nor how many times he'd lost Sam in the process. There would be a time for it, sure, but it was hard enough for him to process the fact of his father's presence. He could only imagine what Dad was thinking and there was no need to add his list of recent failures into the mix. "The angels thought they needed me for something and sent Cas to get me," he said simply. "Started working with him and ended up that way I guess."

"Means a lot to you, then?" John asked, his voice heavy with skepticism. "This…angel?"

Dean nodded, but didn't explain further. Hell, he wasn't sure he understood what his relationship with Cas was, exactly…and there was no way he was going to try to explain it to his father.

"I see," John said, in a tone that clearly said he didn't see, but he didn't press the point. Instead he rubbed a hand across his chin and regarded Dean intently. "And Sam? What happened to Sam?"

Dean nodded again, not quite expecting the change of subject but not terribly surprised by it either. In any case the rapid-fire nature of his dad's questions was so familiar he couldn't help but answer, quick and concise, like Dad had taught him. "He was fine."

"Where'd you leave him?" John asked. "Was he fighting leviathans too?"

"We were both there," Dean said. "But you kill the main guy, the rest die too. Or something. Sammy can take care of himself."

"Was he alone?"

Dean sighed. Of course John would never take Sammy can take care of himself for an answer. Hell, Dean might have actually had a childhood if he had. "Not alone," Dean said, forcing the bitterness out of his voice. He focused on recalling the lab where they'd cornered Dick Roman, and how Sam had burst in with Kevin seconds before Dick's explosion had dragged him and Cas here. "Sam had a kid with him but the place was clear of levis."

"A kid?" John demanded, his eyes widening. "Whose kid?"

"A prophet," Dean clarified. "They're, uh, they're real too." He shrugged. "Read and write the word of God, useful stuff these days. This one's a 17-year-old from Michigan. Nice guy, crap luck."

"A prophet," John repeated, rubbing his forehead.

Dean let out a breath. It really was amazing, he reflected, how much had changed since they'd said goodbye nearly six years ago, more if you counted either of their stints in the pit—and he had a feeling that Dad, at least, did. Hell, the last they'd spent any quality alone time together Sam had still been at Stanford and Dean had been an eager-to-please twenty-five-year-old with absolutely no idea what was in store for any of them.

John glanced at what remained of the fire, a pile of mostly flickering embers with a few flames licking up here and there, and folded his arms. "We should talk."

Dean nodded cautiously. Despite all there was that he didn't want to tell his dad, at least not yet, they still had somewhere around a hundred and fifty years of catching up to do between the two of them. They'd have to start somewhere. "Sure," Dean said, and hoped John didn't hear the hesitation in his voice.

Of course he did. "Something wrong with that?" he asked, studying Dean in the dimly flickering firelight.

"What?" Dean said, looking around stupidly as though the answer might lie in the shadowy woods around them. When he accidentally met Benny's eyes, the vampire gave him an encouraging nod. He looked back to Dad. "No. Of course not."

"Good," John said. He too scanned the woods, though his expression was set, focused, like Dean had seen on a hundred hunts before. "We should be safe here as long as you put that damn thing out." He nodded toward what was left of the fire. "It makes you a target and it makes you blind. That's how I found you."

Dean just stared for a moment, completely unsure of how to respond. The part of him that was thrilled to have Dad back and, as much as he didn't want to admit it, had missed him over the years like a part of himself, wanted to jump to obey like the good son he'd always been. That was how it was supposed to be with Dad, no matter how condescending the orders got. But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he was not that naïve, obedient kid anymore. Daddy's blunt little screwed up instrument. Hell, it had taken the shock of Dad's death and years of the consequences of Dad's actions unraveling for him see that what Dad had done to him and Sam was twisted, that it wasn't right to raise your children as soldiers, and that Dad had robbed them of a childhood, a home, and a normal life, then abandoned them and not even had the decency to pick up the phone when they'd needed him. When Dean had needed him. And it had taken all those years for Dean to get angry, call John a deadbeat dad and believe it. Once he had, he'd felt free for the first time in his life. The idea of giving that up…he just couldn't do it.

He met John's gaze, shrugged, and said something he'd never had the balls to say before. "Nah."

John's eyes glinted in the dying light. "I wasn't asking," he said.

"I know," Dean said. "But a lot has changed."

John's disbelief was palpable. "What, you became an idiot?" he sneered, and shook his head. "If you didn't notice, boy, this is Purgatory."

Dean glanced at Benny, who was watching the argument with a mildly troubled expression but remaining otherwise impassive. Not that Dean had been expecting—or even hoping for, considering how well it probably would have gone over—much help from that quarter. Benny was his friend, but he had to rightly know that he had no part in this. "I know where we are," Dean gritted, feeling the anger stirring again. It was just like Dad to come back into his life after six years and treat him…well, exactly like he'd always treated him.

Still, if there was one thing he did know, it was that John always answered a challenge with a challenge. If he wanted to get through to him he'd have to take a different approach. Dean took a calming breath. "Look, Dad," he tried softly, keeping his voice low and placating. John's eyebrows rose at the change in tone. "Me and Sammy, we've been doing this without you for years now. We've faced things I don't think you could imagine. Believe me. I know what I'm doing."

"I'll believe that when I see it," John said harshly. After a second, though, he scrubbed a hand across his face and sighed heavily. "Dean, I'm sorry. I know you've been on your own." He took half a step back and leaned against the tree Dean had been pressing him up against with an axe to his throat not fifteen minutes before. He sounded exhausted. "But you have to understand, son, I've been here a long time. I know a thing or two."

Dean offered a small conciliatory smile, not quite satisfied but willing to accept the truce because it was Dad. "Five years, right? That's how long it's been for us since the Devil's Gate."

"Five years," John repeated, and shook his head. "Damn."

They looked at each other. For the first time since John's appearance, Dean felt like he could breathe.

"You do look older," John noted after a moment. "You were like a puppy when I left."

"A puppy?" Dean couldn't help a snort of laughter, and he saw Benny grin across the fire. "Yeah. I guess. You should see Sammy now."

"What is he, ten feet tall?" John asked.

Dean didn't dispute it. "Built like a semi, too."

"You don't say."

"Not so sure about the long hair, though," Dean added, miming hair down to his shoulders with his free hand. "Kinda girly."

John actually laughed.

It was that, and the first real hint of warmth he'd seen in his dad's eyes since their meeting, that made Dean walk over to the fire and wordlessly kick a shower of dirt over embers. Shadows danced around the small clearing, and he was aware that Benny was watching, his expression muted. Well, Dean thought, sending another spray of dirt over the fire, he had no right to judge. There was no way he could possibly understand.

They all got more comfortable once the fire was out. Benny was the first to take his old seat, stretching his legs out before him. Not quite willing to get so relaxed, Dean perched atop the stump he'd used as a backrest before, weapon leaning up against it and within easy reach. His leg ached where his dad had caught him with the spiked club, but it was rare a day went by that something didn't hurt so he ignored it, easily. John had sat down atop the log that had once belonged to Dean's stump and now lay tangent to what was left of the fire. He kept one hand on his weapon but fixed Dean with an easy gaze.

"There are things I want to know," John said once they were all situated. "This way out. What is it?"

Dean just looked to Benny. It was the vampire's gig, after all, and Benny could explain it better than he could. It probably also wouldn't hurt to force his dad to at least acknowledge the vampire's presence. Benny had been an impressively good sport so far, but in the end he was a vampire and there was no telling how long that would last. Aside from which, Benny was a decent guy and he didn't deserve to be treated as less than human.

"It's a portal," Benny said amiably, his shrug barely visible in the dim light. "Made by God himself to spit out humans like yourselves who got stuck here. So they say, anyhow."

John shook his head. "I been here along time," he said, sounding skeptical. "Never heard of it."

"You talk to many monsters?" Benny asked.

John narrowed his eyes. "No," he said slowly, his voice low. "Do you?"

Dean spoke up before the threat implicit in his dad's tone could turn into anything else. "It's okay, Dad," he tried. "I wouldn't've found out either but Benny came to me with it. Saved my life in the process. He's good people."

Still clearly doubtful, John looked to Benny, who flashed a smile that fell somewhere between cordial and an animal baring its teeth. Dean rubbed his forehead. It wasn't that he expected his dad and Benny to become the best of friends. But he didn't relish the thought of being caught in the middle of a pissing match, particularly one brought on by his father's stubborn unwillingness to trust anything supernatural, for as long as it took to find Cas. It was already reminding him too much of the headbutting that had always begun John and Sam's arguments—except there was a real possibility here that if things went too far, one of the disputants might actually do some damage.

Miraculously, though, John seemed willing to let it go, at least for the moment. "So Dean," he said. His voice was friendly again and as he went on, Dean supposed his curiosity about his sons after so many years had superseded the desire to put Benny in his place...or whatever the hell he'd been hoping to do. "You said you and Sammy were hunting when you got sucked here," Dad said. "You two been together since Yellow Eyes?"

Relieved at the change of subject, Dean nodded. "More or less," he said, then allowed a little smile to show. He realized he'd been sitting stiffly on the stump, tense, and forced his shoulders to relax. "We do make a hell of a team."

"I'll bet," John said, but something in his voice was sad. "I take it Sammy never made it to law school, then, did he. Never got married like he wanted?"

"Nah," Dean said. Hell, the last time they'd talked about the life he could've had Sam had said he'd rather have Lilith's head on a plate, and that had been years ago. "Never even tried."

"Don't know whether I'm glad to hear that or not," John said. He studied Dean. "What about you? You get anything you wanted?"

Dean froze. As always, when he was drunk or simply stupid enough to let himself think about it, he remembered life with Lisa and Ben, and how despite his grief over Sam he'd had a family free of painful obligations and a place to call home for the first time in his life. But in the end he'd given that up for Sam and duty, and it was hard to think of anything else that even remotely fit the bill. Well, he supposed, there was Cas, but then he'd never known he wanted a nerdy angel friend in his life until one had appeared. He took a moment to look hard at John, who—for perhaps the first time in his life again—actually seemed interested in the answer. Still, the very fact it was Dad asking made him want to hold back. "What I wanted?" Dean repeated, maybe a second or two too late, and laughed humorlessly. "What the hell did I ever want?"

John considered him for a moment. "Guess I never thought that much about it," he said softly.

Benny snorted. John shot him a threatening glare, hand tightening around his weapon.

"Right now I just want to find Cas and get the hell out of here," Dean said.

That got Dad's attention well enough. "Tell me more about this angel who means so much to you," he said.

"Cas?" Dean said, and blinked a few times, trying to figure out how to answer. "What do you want to know?"

"How about what the hell kind of creature an angel is first of all," John drawled. "If I'm looking for one might help to know. We talking wings? Flying? White robes and hymn singing?"

"None of that," Dean said. It was easier talking about this than it was about what he had—or hadn't—accomplished since Dad's death, but it also brought with it a different kind of ache. He could picture the last he'd seen of the angel's face, deadly serious for the first time since healing Sam, as clearly as if it had been yesterday. We're much more likely to be ripped to shreds. Then nothing. It still hurt to think about losing him again and Dean let out a breath at the memory. "Cas would say he's an infinite celestial wavelength or something, but he just looks like a guy. A nerdy little guy in a trench coat. You'd never know what he was." He shrugged. "Wings are more something angels…do."

"A trench coat," John echoed. "You're joking."

"Nah," Dean said fondly, and couldn't help the little smile that pulled at his lips. It really was ridiculous to think about, as familiar as the sight had once become. "He looks like a friggin' holy encyclopedia salesman but he loves that thing."

John's reaction was not what he expected.

"I saw a man in a trench coat a couple weeks back," he said. "Would've hunted him but a pack of leviathans got there first and I got out of the way. Doubt he's still there but could be a place to pick up the trail."

"You saw him?" Dean said, barely aware he'd stood up and grabbed his weapon, nerves thrumming. He hadn't been so close to Cas's trail in months. Both John and Benny were staring at him a little like he'd lost his mind. "Come on," he said. "We have to go."

"It's been weeks, Dean," Benny said. It seemed half a plea to remain where they were, at least for the night, and half a friend's reminder not to set his hopes too high.

"I'll take you," John said, rising with him. For a moment they just stood, staring at each other through the darkness with weapons in hand, and Dean felt a thrill of the familiar. Him and Dad, on a hunt again. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter Three

John loved to watch Dean hunt. He always had. Even as a boy, his eldest had moved with a fluid, catlike grace it had taken Sammy years more to learn. As he'd gotten older, the grace had remained, the light quickness replaced by a controlled raw power that was impressive to behold. It had told John, even on the days he doubted himself, even on the days he wondered if maybe he should have just let Mary's death be and moved on with his life, that he had made the right decision. Dean was a god damn natural.

Most of the time, anyway. His natural flew past him at hip level, hit the ground rolling and came to a stop next to a tree and lay still. The wendigo soul that had thrown him shrieked and John leapt forward, smashing his club into its head with a grunt. It gurgled as its skull caved in, but wendigos were tricky monsters to stop and this one was no exception. It stumbled forward, swiping with its claws, and would have taken John's arm off if he'd looked at Dean—who was starting to pick himself up, thank God—for any longer. Nearby the vampire was grappling with two more. The fourth, felled by Dean's cleaver before the others knew what hit them, lay a few feet away, its severed head wedged under a nearby bush. John landed another blow to his adversary's head and this time its whole cranium burst open, splattering him with a lumpy grayish fluid and bits of atrophied brain. It fell, and John smashed its head in once more to be sure. The other two wendigos had the vampire on his back and John watched Dean stumble across the stony ground, grabbing his cleaver as he went, to land a clumsy blow downward where the creature's neck met its shoulder. Clumsy was worrying coming from Dean and so John joined the fray, pulling the injured wendigo away from the vampire so Dean could finish it off with a better-aimed swing.

The vampire had managed to pin the last wendigo against the ground, but shot a glance at Dean before he spoke. "Where's the angel?" he asked the creature in the politely condescending southern drawl that John was very quickly growing tired of, rattling it and knocking its head off a rock when it didn't answer. "You seen the angel?" The thing just made a wailing noise and after a second or two of that Benny shrugged, glanced at Dean again, and cut its head off. Dean nodded approvingly as the creature shuddered and went still. Dean and the vampire worked well as a team and that bothered John in ways he didn't fully understand himself.

"All right, Dean?" John asked as soon as it was clear no member of the wendigo pack was going to get up again.

"I'm fine," Dean said, though one arm was wrapped around his ribs and he was breathing shallowly. Knowing Dean, that meant something hurt but wasn't likely to kill him. But something like a fatherly instinct was kicking in after so many years away and he couldn't help but size Dean up again.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Dean sounded a little irritated, then swallowed it and looked back and forth between John and the vampire. "But that was a rough one. You guys okay?"

"I'll make it," Benny drawled, catching John's eyes just long enough to let him know his next words were, in fact, a poke at John. "Thanks for asking."

John bit down on a surge of annoyance as well as the urge to roll his eyes, and answered Dean instead. "I'm fine too," he said, figuring a few more bruises weren't worth reporting, and looked his eldest up and down. Dean had been sloppy toward the end and that concerned him. "What happened there?"

His son shrugged, then winced slightly. "Not sure. Thing was faster than me. It happens."

"It happens too much and you're dead. Be more careful," John said, then let it drop, crouching to use a handful of leaves to wipe gray goo off his club. Instead of acknowledging John's concern, however, with a nod or a yes sir like he might have once done, Dean just glanced around at the carnage.

"I friggin' hate wendigos," he said. "Never tell you anything useful."

"Don't smell too good neither," the vampire agreed. John refrained from pointing out that bloodsuckers didn't make for great company either. Dean had made it clear early on that he wouldn't tolerate jibes from either side, and out of respect for his son John had mostly kept his feelings about the vampire to himself.

All in all they'd been at this for nearly five days now, scouring the area around where John had last seen the angel, an otherwise unremarkable clearing with a large rock, looking for any creature who might know where it had gone. John still wasn't in love with the idea of bringing back an angel either. No matter what Dean said, an angel was a creature, and in twenty years of hunting, a century of Hell and five years fighting for his life in this godforsaken place, he had yet to meet one who didn't mean him or his family harm. But he trusted Dean more than anyone else in the world, and . Hell, that was the only reason he hadn't yet killed the vampire where he stood.

"So where to next?" Benny asked, stowing the blade he'd stolen off a shapeshifter corpse two days back and scratching his head under his cap.

Dean gazed into the forest. "I say we keep going the way we been going," he said, sounding a little pained but determined. "Some monster around here must have seen him."

"Let's just hope it's one that speaks English," Benny said, then grinned at Dean. "Or French. I could do French."

"Maybe you shoulda tried that with the wendigos," Dean joked. As soon as he caught John's eye, however, the amusement fled his face.

"Let's go," John said.

Soon, they were walking again, in search of another monster or four to interrogate. Dean took the lead, John followed, and Benny trailed several feet behind. Over the course of the past few days, Dean had described to John what must have been the lion's share of the lore he and Sam had encountered over the years. It had taken a while, and John had had plenty of questions. Angels, God, Lucifer, alphas, time travel, parallel universes, resurrection and Death…there was more than John could have imagined. Dean seemed to have a pretty good grasp of it all. "You should keep a journal," John had suggested with a smile. At this, however, Dean had only shaken his head, as though the thought caused him pain, and John hadn't brought it up again.

Some apparent sense of obligation had also prompted Dean to fill John in on which of the people John cared about had died—for good, he stressed—since John had gone underground. Bobby, Rufus, Annie, Ellen, her little girl Jo…but the real kicker was Adam. Adam, the son he'd barely known, and the one boy he'd tried so hard to keep away from the life. But of course he'd been sucked in as violently as he possibly could've been. Once the life touched you there was no escaping it, and that was the other reason he'd known he'd made the right decision with Sam and Dean. At least they'd been prepared.

What Dean had spared the details on, however, had been most of the specifics of his and Sam's involvement in all that had apparently happened. He knew, for example, that Dean and Sam were supposed to have been Michael and Lucifer's vessels in the apocalypse…but Dean had been highly fuzzy on the why, claiming angel mumbo jumbo and destiny and such, which John had a hard time believing. Nor had he been particularly clear on why he and Sam had spent so much time hunting the demon Lilith, nor just why Sam had gone off on his own to kill her, raising Lucifer, though Dean stressed that Sam couldn't have known. What most niggled, however, was how evasive Dean had been about what had transpired in the year between John's death and his escape from Hell. Not so much because it particularly mattered now, but John had gone to Hell terrified of what might happen, spent untold decades getting flayed and beaten and scorched and pulled apart piece by piece, all the while wondering how Dean and Sam had fared with his final order. He knew they'd both lived long enough to make it to the Hell Gate, of course, but he still wanted the details. Despite his curiosity, John had been willing to respect Dean's discomfort around the issue…at least for a while.

Now, though, they had a several hours' hike through the dull gray Purgatory forest until Dean was content to call it a day, and John was tired of wondering. "So Dean," he began. "Do you remember what I said to you before I died?"

Dean glanced back without stopping, but his face registered pure alarm and he quickly looked back to the path ahead. He'd been moving gingerly since the wendigo fight but now he went downright stiff. "Of course," he said.

"How did it happen?" John asked.

For a moment, Dean didn't answer but just kept plowing ahead, sweeping a thick growth of vines aside with his cleaver. "I told you Sam's fine."

John quickened his pace until they were almost side by side despite the narrow path. "That's not what I'm asking," he said. He had a feeling his son was being deliberately obtuse but—unlike Sam, who generally answered a harsh tone by getting angry himself and yelling whatever John wanted to know in the first place—Dean responded to being snapped at by shutting down and giving one-word answers until the conflict was over. Or at least, John thought, that was what his boys would have done six years ago or more. However, it was becoming more and more obvious that he barely knew this Dean at all. "I want to know how you saved him."

Dean still didn't look back. His voice was measured. "I told you. Yellow Eyes collected his special children and did some kind of battle royale thing to pick his guy. Sam didn't win, so me him Bobby and Ellen went out to the Devil's Gate. Not much else to tell."

"Look, Dean, my sources were clear," John said, in a tone that brooked no nonsense. "Your brother would have to be killed or be saved. I thought it would have to be me then I thought it would be have to be you. But there was no getting around it."

"Well I didn't do either," Dean snarled, then paused so that John nearly ran into him, and rubbed a hand across his forehead before letting it fall with a grimace. He looked back at John for a second but addressed his apology to the path in front of him, picking up his pace again. "Sorry. But that's not how it went."

"How did it go, then, Dean?" John pressed. The longer Dean evaded his questions the more he wanted to know.

"Doesn't matter."

"I'm your father," John reminded him. It had been so long since he'd wanted something from Dean he hadn't gotten he hardly remembered what he was supposed to do. He knew Dean was an adult now—hell, at his age John had had a ten-year-old—but if Dean was going to act like a petulant child, John wasn't going to hold back. "I went to Hell for you. I spent a hundred years on the rack so you could live to do whatever you had to do and now I want to know what that was."

"That was why?" Dean asked, his voice hollow. Of course that hadn't been quite what John meant, but something stubborn in John rebelled at correcting him. If it took letting him think that to make him treat John like his father again, so be it. People had thought plenty worse. Dean whacked another rope of vines out of the way, gritting his teeth. "I didn't kill him or save him," he said in a low, regretful voice. "He died. I brought him back."

"What?" John demanded, louder than he'd meant to. "How?"

For a few seconds, Dean said nothing. Then, in a voice as soft as John's had been harsh, "I made a deal."

A deal. It took a second for the full meaning of the words to permeate John's mind, but when they did his annoyance escalated to a blind anger, a raw seething sense of injustice he hadn't felt since the last time he'd spit in Alastair's face for offering him a way out. "You did what?" Without thinking he reached forward, grabbed Dean's shoulders and spun him around. Dean gasped and winced as his ribs pulled but John tamped down on his guilt and stared at him wildly. Of all the things... He was aware Benny was watching with concern but he gave even less of a damn about what the bloodsucker might think. "How much time do you have left?"

Dean closed his eyes, unable to meet John's anymore. "I already paid my dues."

John resisted the urge to shake him, fingers digging into Dean's arms. Dean opened his eyes, but his expression was guarded. John could barely believe what he'd just heard. His boy, who he'd gone to Hell to protect, had followed him there not a year later? It was unfair and it was wrong and for all he was sure Dean had thought he'd done it for the right reasons John couldn't find it in himself to care. "How long?" he gritted.

"Forty years," Dean said blandly, then swallowed. "The angels pulled me out. Cas pulled me out."

"I went to Hell for you," was all John could say. He couldn't believe it. Dean, who he'd trusted implicitly…this went way beyond disobeying orders. This meant that John's sacrifice had been for nothing, that all those years of pain and torture and hellfire had been for nothing. All because Dean hadn't been able to follow his final order. "I gave up my soul for you, boy," he added, still disbelieving, "and you threw that away while I was still rotting down there?"

Dean did look him in the eye now. "I did it to save Sam," he said, his voice taking on a new edge. "Figured that'd mean more to you."

John snorted. "You should've found another way."

"You didn't," Dean said.

"Only because the two of you didn't have the balls to kill Yellow Eyes when you had the chance," John snapped. He still remembered Dean lying on the floor, begging Sammy not to shoot. He wished as he had a thousand times before that Sam had just ended it there. "I gave you an order. You should never have let your brother die in the first place. You disobeyed me and you threw away the greatest sacrifice I could have made for you, and now you're trying to tell me you're in the right?"

"I did what I had to do," Dean said.

They stared at each other. Benny's eyes traveled back and forth between them uncomfortably.

"Anything else you want to tell me?" John asked, his voice hard.

Dean's hesitation told him everything he needed to know. John let go of Dean's arms, violently enough that Dean stumbled backward a step.

"You know what, Dad?" Dean's voice still had a defiant edge, raw now with emotion, and John narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling he would not like whatever came next. "Yeah," Dean said roughly. "I let you down. I let Sam down. I let half the people I cared about die. Hell, I don't know if I've saved more people than I've hurt. I took Alastair's deal in Hell after thirty years, Dad, and tortured innocent people for ten more. I kicked off the damn apocalypse and I let Sammy trust a demon bitch who got him hooked on demon blood so he could finish it off and when I tried to have a normal life and a family I just screwed them too. Hell, one of the last things I did on Earth was play nice with the King of Hell so we could do a better job fighting the leviathans. But you know what else?" He didn't wait for John's reaction, the words rushing out like he couldn't stop. "I did the best I could with this crap sack life you forced me into. And I'm still your son so that's going to have to be damn good enough for you." By the time he was done he was out of breath, clutching his ribs with one hand. His eyes were shining.

John took a deep breath, exhaled it, and for a few seconds said nothing. He knew he would have to learn more, to unpack the rambling confession his son had just made and figure out what just what kind of a mess he'd left behind…but now, he couldn't even think of handling it. The weight of what Dean had said coupled with the allegations that somehow this was all his fault mixed together into something that was altogether too much. "It's not," he said simply and honestly. Dean looked like he'd been kicked in the stomach, but John felt too much like that himself to care. So instead he set his face and nodded to the path ahead. Suddenly he couldn't stand waiting there any longer, looking at Dean's face while the vampire stared at them both, mouth halfway open like he had something to say. "Let's find this angel," John said. He knew the conversation was far from over but it wasn't going to happen here. Not now. "I want to get the hell out of here."

Dean nodded, swallowed, and turned away, starting slowly down the path. Benny glared at John for a few seconds before joining him, and John did the same. They would find this angel of his, John had no doubt, and he would even put up with the bloodsucker's irritatingly genteel presence until they did. What might happen next…well, he'd have to think long and hard about just how much he trusted Dean's judgment.

None of them spoke again until several hours later, when Benny stopped and sniffed the air.

"Werewolf," he said, pointed over a short ridge, and addressed Dean. "Maybe this one'll know where your angel is."

"Yeah," Dean said gruffly, meeting John's eyes for a brief second before following the vampire's gaze into the darkening woods. The flash of pain he saw there was replaced quickly by determination. "Let's go find out."


	4. Chapter 4

Cas sat with his back to a thick oak, arms draped over knees drawn up to his chest, his eyes closed and his head resting back against the rough bark. Listening. In the absence of sounds from birds and bugs and animals—save for the souls of toothed and clawed creatures, which could be as deadly as their bipedal brethren and as much cause for fear—any rustling in the darkness meant only monsters. It was a mixed blessing, for in the stillness, even the soft impacts of leviathans hitting the ground and taking shape could sound as loud as cannons, and Cas would know it was time to move—again.

Of course, that wasn't the only reason he waited and listened as the shadows lengthened every night. Sometimes Dean's prayers came early, and sometimes they came late, but they came without fail, loud in his mind because angel radio was as free of chatter as the forest was of birdsong.  _Please, Cas, if you can hear me…_

They had changed over the months. At first, as Dean had learned to navigate Purgatory's treacherous paths, each prayer had been ragged and desperate and afraid. _Please, Cas…don't know if I'll make it another day. I need you._  As the days had turned into weeks, however, they'd grown more assured. Until one day, Dean's prayers had unexpectedly come through with the frenetic energy of hope.  _Cas, if you can hear me…there's a way out, and I'm not leaving here without you._ Each night, Cas awaited the prayers with mixed trepidation and hope of his own. Dean's prayers meant that Dean was still alive. But they also meant that Dean was still in Purgatory.

He longed to answer. But he stayed away, not only because Dean was safer without him, but because he still needed to atone, which he could never do in the human's presence. Dean had far too much faith in him and cared for him too much. Nor could he leave the drab forest behind, as Dean was so eager to do.

Tonight the prayers were late. Perhaps, Cas thought, taking in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, the time had finally come. Dean had perished or escaped, and last night's prayer, which had been clipped and tense, though Cas did not know why, had been his last contact with his his closest (his only?) remaining friend. The notion brought a sinking feeling in his gut and he allowed himself to indulge in the human motion of burying his face in his hands, his elbows resting on the knees of his dirty scrubs. That was when he heard his name.

It was Dean's voice, of course, and for several seconds it didn't register that the syllable had been shouted aloud, not broadcast into his mind. Rather, it had come from somewhere in the dark forest behind him.

"Cas!" Dean called again. "Cas, you here?"

"Dean," he murmured.

Cas could hear the footsteps now, crashing toward him through the undergrowth, more pairs of feet than he would have expected and slightly off course. He momentarily considered fleeing again—Dean had not seen him yet and if he left now, the human would never know how close he'd come—but as foolish as it was, he could not find the will to do so, no matter how much heartache it would likely cause both of them in the end. Cas could see Dean approaching now, flanked by two larger men, and stood with a sigh. As soon as he did Dean seemed to catch sight of him and bee-lined toward him, jogging the last several feet, one arm bracing his ribs. He looked as haggard and dirty as Cas himself, but as he closed the distance his face broke into a smile. His companions followed more slowly, and less happily.

"Cas." Slowing as he reached him, Dean looked him up and down before stepping forward, his arms rising at his sides. Cas stiffened, waiting to be pulled into an embrace he neither entirely wanted nor understood, but it never came. Instead, Dean stopped short and glanced back at the bearded, dark-haired man who was catching up to him, and let his arms fall back to his sides with a wince as the man took his place beside him.

"So this is an angel," the man said, folding his arms. Cas narrowed his eyes. There was something oddly familiar about him, but Cas was certain they had not met before.

"Cas," Dean said again, his smile fading. He shook his head as though he couldn't believe it. "Cas, finally. You feeling all right?" He made a vague gesture at Cas's head.

"I'm perfectly sane," Cas said. He supposed there was no reason Dean should take his word for it, but there were more pressing matters to address, such as how Dean had picked up two companions in Purgatory. "Who are these people?" he asked, glancing around. There were no leviathans here now but that didn't meant they weren't on their way, and if Dean had managed to track him here he was no doubt leaving more of a trail than he had meant to. "How did you find me?"

"Been looking a long time," Dean said, glancing again at the dark-haired man beside him, who was still regarding Cas with obvious skepticism. Dean took a deep breath before gesturing between Cas and the dark-haired man. "Cas, this is my father," he said. "Dad, this is Cas." He also nodded to the larger, fairer man beside him—clearly a vampire. "And this is my friend Benny."

"Hi there," Benny said.

Dean's father stared at him, eyes hard.

"What is your father doing here?" Cas asked Dean, his eyes moving back and forth between the two Winchesters. Certainly, Cas could see the family resemblance, and to his angelic senses the man's true face appeared as human as Dean claimed. He wasn't even a human soul, but as alive as Dean, though Cas could not have begun to understand how or why. Still, there existed evil that even angels could not detect, and a human showing up in Purgatory where one did not belong was cause for concern in any case; few forces in the universe could drag a human across the barrier, especially when that human's soul had wasted in Hell apart from its body for a century or more. That it was John Winchester in particular—not only the original righteous man, but also the one being who had controlled Dean far better than any other before or since, better even than the forces of Heaven and Hell—well, that went far beyond concerning. "Why is he alive?"

Dean shrugged. "We don't know why." He looked at his father cautiously, as if there was something wrong between them. Cas narrowed his eyes further.

"Climbed out of Hell, started up to Heaven and got sucked back here," John said, noticing Cas's squint and raising his eyebrows as if challenging Cas to disbelieve his story.

"It doesn't matter why he's here," Dean decided, looking supplicatingly at Cas before glancing at the vampire. "We're getting out of here. Tell him, Benny."

Benny shrugged dismissively. "Portal to the other side. Good for humans, may or may not work for your high holy kind."

"It'll work," Dean said.

Cas didn't respond. He knew he would have to tell Dean, at some point, that he did not plan to come with him. But, as he had been unable to keep from revealing himself to Dean earlier, he found the words too hard to say. Dean looked too hopeful, too pleased to see him. And so, though he knew it was wrong, he kept his mouth shut.

"So why'd you bail on Dean?" Benny asked, his voice deceptively conversational.

Startled, Dean glanced at Cas, but immediately after his head turned toward his father.

A muscle moved in John's jaw. "You left him?" he snapped at Cas.

"No, Dad." Dean's eyes slid shut for a moment, though whether it was the possibility that Cas had abandoned him or the prospect of explaining it to his father that was painful, Cas was unsure. Dean swallowed and looked at his father. "We got jumped by some hairy freaks back there and got separated. That's all."

The inaccuracy of the assertion, combined with Dean's painfully unshakable faith in him, made something inside Cas twist uncomfortably. "That's not what happened," he admitted. His soft words made both Winchesters' heads snap toward him, and, almost imperceptibly, Benny bared his teeth. "I ran away."

Dean's face registered first disbelief, then hurt, then anger, while John's lips pressed together, his expression clouding. Benny stepped back with a sigh.

"You did what?" Dean sounded entirely disbelieving, as though he expected Cas to reveal he had been joking, or at least that he had misspoken.

John just glared at him, hand tightening on his weapon.

"I ran away," Cas said again, and Dean looked stricken. "I've been tracked and hunted by leviathans since we arrived. You were safer without me." Of course, there was no way to explain his penance without admitting that he had no plans to leave Purgatory, which he still did not want to do. That didn't mean, however, that he couldn't encourage them to do the right thing. "In fact, you were all safer. You should go."

"Should we now," John said threateningly.

"Yes," Cas said. As he watched John fix Dean with another shuttered stare, however, he found himself doubting his convictions for the first time in many months. When he had arrived he had believed himself past the point of doing good, and the Winchesters past the point of needing his help…but it was becoming more and more clear not only that something strange going on, but that it was something that Dean might not be able to handle on his own. Whatever the reason John Winchester was here, Dean's feelings about his father were obviously still strong and, if the constant glances to see his father's reactions were any indication, he was still far too concerned about his father's opinion. There was no telling how compromised he would be if John was not what he said he was or if something else was using him to get at Dean.

"We're not leaving you," Dean said.

"Plenty of things trying to kill us too," Benny pointed out.

Though, compared to Dean's desire for him to come and the mystery of John Winchester's presence the vampire mattered little to him, Cas disliked the way Benny seemed to hover protectively between him and Dean. There were many things about their situation that Benny didn't understand. "Things," Cas agreed. "Not leviathan."

Dean shook his head slightly, and his voice had a desperate edge. "And the difference is?"

"There is no damn difference," John said. When his harsh tone made Dean's eyes close briefly Cas had to push down another wave of uneasiness.

Dean had to understand that Cas had not left him because he did not care for him. He tried to make his voice soft, though it had been a while since he'd used it this much and the reflexive knowledge of how to relate to humans was always slow to return. "They would have killed you," he said. "I had to keep them away."

"You don't know that," Dean said, his voice thick with emotion. "I prayed to you, Cas, every night."

"I heard you," Cas told him.

"You heard him?" John Winchester demanded. Dean's gaze dropped. "I want an explanation for all of this," John went on, looking between Dean and Cas. The lines of his body were tense and the anger on his bearded face was plain, but Cas met his stare easily while Dean continued to study the ground. "We've been looking for you for more than a week now. Dean's been trying for months. And your only excuse is that there were a few leviathans on your tail?"

"There  _are many_  leviathans on my tail," Cas corrected him. Dean's throat moved as, with another glance at his father, he swallowed back whatever reaction he might have shown. Cas felt a stab of regret. He should never have shown himself. Except…had he not, he never would have discovered this situation.

"So?" John's voice was scathing. "He could have gone but instead he stayed and risked his life for  _you_."

"Yes," Cas acknowledged.

"I want to know what you have to say for yourself."

"Dad," Dean finally cut in. "Don't. Please."

John turned on him, bristling, his anger at Cas transferring seamlessly to his son. Dean seemed to shrink under the attention. "I'm not done with you either," John snapped.

The anguish twisting Dean's face was plain. "I know," he said, and Cas wondered what he meant. It only made him more concerned about leaving Dean with his father, penance be damned. "But Cas is coming with us. He has to."

"No he doesn't," Benny cut in.

John's glance at the vampire was irritated. "No, he doesn't," he repeated.

Cas kept his expression guarded and said nothing, curious to see how this would play out. If Dean could, in fact, handle his father, perhaps Cas could stay after all.

"I'd trust him with my life," Dean went on, his eyes meeting Cas's fleetingly. However, his next words were supplicating. "Look, Dad, if Cas says he was trying to keep me safe, then he was trying to keep me safe. I don't have to like it."

"You don't keep someone safe by leaving them alone in a pit of monsters," John said.

There was a long pause, in which Dean seemed to be gathering the courage to say something. Finally, he swallowed. "You did."

John's eyebrows shot up. "I did what?"

"You left me," Dean said, his voice hard. He took a breath and his hand traveled protectively back to his ribs, but his face lost none of the grim determination that had come with the simple words. "You didn't tell me where you were going, you wouldn't answer my calls for weeks and when I finally got Sammy and we found you-almost a  _year_  later-you told us to get lost. Because you thought the monster you were fighting was so much worse than all the things trying to kill us since you left."

For a moment, John looked angry, and ready to snap out a response, but then his mouth shut. After a moment he blinked, looking stricken. "You're right," he said.

Dean looked like he couldn't believe his ears. "I'm right?"

"I did do that." His expression hardened. "But I stand by it. I'm your father. This angel is..." he shook his head and shrugged, not comprehending.

"He's family," Dean said simply.

Cas blinked, trying not to show how the words had touched him. After all he'd done, after all the harm and the heartbreak and the betrayal, he did not deserve such kindness. And he especially didn't deserve such loyalty.

"He's family?" John echoed, clearly struggling with the weight of the simple statement. Winchesters did not throw that word around lightly.

John folded his arms and cast a searing look over Cas, his eyes lingering on Cas's as if he could somehow see into Cas's intentions that way. Cas returned the gaze, wishing he could do the same. John was clearly protective of Dean, and seemed to want redress for whatever harm had been done to his son, but that didn't mean he was truly Dean's father. But what he had seen in the exchange had been that Dean truly believed that he was. Perhaps even John-or the creature masquerading as John-believed it too. And so Cas realized that he had already made up his mind.

"Yes," Dean said roughly. "He's family."

After a long pause, John nodded slightly. Then they all looked at Cas.

"I will come with you," he said.

It seemed to take a moment for the words to sink in. Dean looked purely relieved, while John remained doubtful and Benny looked somewhat annoyed with all of them.

"Good," Dean said shortly, then offered him a small smile. "Good. Glad to have you with us."

It took a few more seconds for John to react. "Of all the things. Never did believe in angels," he drawled. Still, his expression had softened slightly, and Cas recognized that he was, if not accepting him, then at least allowing that there was no other alternative that would not involve tearing Dean apart.

Cas nodded, accepting the truce, however temporary. If this was in fact John, they could go from here. If not...well, he would be ready to act at the first sign, because it was clear Dean still cared too much for his father's opinion. He would not be ready, and so it was Cas's duty to protect him. Perhaps, he thought, it could be a new kind of penance.

John smirked, and added, "And I never woulda pictured you."

Before Cas could respond, however, he heard a noise he recognized in an instant.  _Plunkplunklunkplunk._  So instead of reminding John that what he saw was, in fact, a human vessel and not an angel's true form, he turned toward the noise and squinted into the forest. "We have to move," he said.

"What?" Dean said. "Why?"

"Leviathans," Cas answered. " _R_ _un_."


	5. Chapter 5

"Leviathans?" Dean barked. "Where?"

It was as if Cas's words sent an electric jolt through Dean, cutting through the swirling mess of emotion their meeting with Cas had set off in him. Considering how he'd already been reeling from his last conversation with his dad -  _It's not_ \- and the wearing silence that had followed, he hadn't had high expectations for their meeting. But what he hadn't expected at all was for finding Cas to be more painful than losing him, and for his dad's resistance to have been the least upsetting part. I prayed to you, Cas, every night.  _I know_. How long would he have let Dean search? The truth was that as much as Dean wanted to trust Cas, and although he would never admit it to his dad, his faith in the angel was shaken in a way it hadn't been since Cas had sold out to Crowley more than a year before. At least then Dean had been able to understand his reasons. Now, he couldn't imagine them.

So all in all he was glad to let his instincts take over, to let the pain and confusion fade into the background as the world around him sharpened, colors brightening and sounds growing louder as his heart beat more quickly in his chest. Even the persistent ache in his side from the ribs the wendigo had cracked seemed to lessen. His hand found his weapon automatically, and he was peripherally aware of John and Benny drawing theirs beside him. Cas, however, just stood tense and still as a trapped animal.

"That way," Cas pointed. Dean swung his head around to check but all he could see was forest. "Approaching. Come on." He took a few steps forward but stopped, a spasm of frustration crossing his face, when only Dean followed. He pivoted with his jaw clenched, eyes demanding explanation.

"How many?" John asked.

"Three." Cas's tone was clipped. "We don't have time for discussion."

"Four of us," John pointed out.

Cas's eyes met Dean's pleadingly, and Dean felt something unpleasant shift in his gut. Neither John nor Cas had actually made him choose between them so far, but if he had to...he had waited too long and come too far to leave Cas. But there was no way he was losing his dad again either. Especially not while things were still so screwed up between them, too.

"Can we even run from these things?" Benny asked. "I thought they were faster than your average critter."

"They are fast." Cas's voice was grave. After a second, though, he paused, his whole expression changing, his head tilting to the side and his brows drawing together. More than anything…he looked confused.

"What is it, Cas?" Dean asked.

"The leviathans are leaving," Cas said after a moment. He blinked, and murmuring the next words to himself as he ran a hand across his peach fuzz of a beard. "Why are they leaving?"

"Who gives a damn?" John asked.

Quick as lightning, Cas spun to face John, then covered the few feet between them so swiftly Dean could have blinked and missed it. He caught John by surprise, slamming him back against a tree and trapping him there with a forearm to his throat. As shocked as his dad, Dean stood and stared with his mouth halfway open.

"What are you?" Cas demanded, shoving his face toward John's.

"What am I?" John sounded more surprised than angry, but that was clearly changing fast. Dean moved toward them, hoping to somehow get in between them. He'd been so much more worried about what John might try to do to Cas, he hadn't bothered to worry about the reverse. On top of that the scene was uncomfortably familiar. He recalled a brutal night in a dark alley years ago and how that had been the last he'd ever underestimated the angel's strength…or his patience. Dean edged forward and only hoped his dad didn't make the same mistake.

"Leviathans don't retreat," Cas stated, his face inches from John's. His voice was cold, however, and it was clear he was taking no pleasure in threatening Dean's father, nor was there a deep sense of anger and betrayal behind his words as there been that night in the alley. He was simply pinning John as if Dean's dad was a creature that needed containing. "The only thing that doesn't belong here is you. What are you? What do you want with Dean?"

Dean froze at the sound of his name. John didn't.

Instead, his frustration at being captive seemed to bubble over and he shot out a free fist, catching Cas in the gut with a roundhouse. The angel barely moved, shoving forward as John swung a knee up toward his groin and Dean grabbed both of them by the shoulder in a vain attempt to wrench them apart as they struggled. Neither paid him any mind. John kicked at Cas's knee but Cas braced himself, bending his leg forward so the blow landed ineffectually on his outer thigh, and shoved John backward. John's head snapped back against the tree but he only grunted and twisted forward, aiming to break Cas's grip with his weight, but Cas thwarted him again, grabbing his right wrist and slamming him back against the tree with one shoulder. Dean was sure Cas could tear John apart if he tried but the angel was apparently holding back. Which was more or less what inspired Dean to try to wedge himself in the space between them get his back to his dad, and shove Cas away. Then he could figure out what the hell was going on.

What he got instead was an errant elbow to the side—impossible to say whose—that under normal circumstances might have left him a little bruised and winded, but which connected instead with his hurt ribs and turned the persistent ache into a white hot spike of agony. He let go of both his dad and Cas to clutch at his side, face scrunching against the pain. His knees hit the ground and he shouted the first words that came to him through clenched teeth.

"Son of a  _bitch_!"

When he opened his eyes Benny was standing at his side, one hand on his weapon, and John and Cas had separated and were both staring at him with mixed bewilderment and concern.

"Dean, are you okay?" John asked with a last dirty glance at Cas, stepping toward him with one hand outstretched as if he'd meant to help him up or rest it on his shoulder, though he never quite made it that far. Benny bristled at him.

"He's hurt," Cas noted, as if John hadn't noticed. "I'm sorry, Dean, I can't heal you here."

"I'm…fine," Dean gasped automatically, then stared up at them, one hand on his side, still winded. His ribs throbbed but the blinding agony had passed. "Now will you two...just... _stop_  whatever you're doing?" he gritted, then recalled it had been Cas who'd charged his father. He straightened but remained on his knees, ignoring the pain that spasmed across his ribs, and looked up at the angel questioningly, echoing his dad's question without thinking. "I mean, what the hell, Cas?"

Cas's gaze was intense, but it seemed Dean's re-injury had been enough to distract him from the task of pinioning John. "Dean, in all my time here I have never seen nor heard of leviathans retreating when their prey was so near. Nor in all the time before this."

"So?" John demanded. Wincing, he stretched the fingers of the wrist Cas had grabbed, then reached back and touched his head where the angel's brute force had slammed it into the tree. His fingers came away bloody but to Dean, who had seen his dad in all manner of pain, his grimace looked more annoyed than anything.

"Leviathans fear almost nothing," Cas told them, turning his head to gaze at each of them solemnly. He stopped when he was looking down at Dean. "If they are retreating from him, then either he is not John Winchester or there are powerful forces at work here that I do not understand. You are likely in grave danger."

John snorted. "Then we're in danger. What's new." With one last tender prod at the back of his skull, John let his hand fall and also appealed to Dean. "You know me, son. Hell, when Yellow Eyes took me you figured it out in hours, and that bastard knew me. Knew all of us. We been at this a week now. Tell him."

Dean nodded, trying to sort through the information Cas and his dad were throwing at him. Obviously, something strange was going on, but was there really a chance Dad wasn't Dad? It was true that he knew his father, and at one time, had probably known him better than anyone in the world, even Sam. But a lot of time had passed since then, and what they'd both been through - it would have changed anyone. And, he'd thought, it had. His dad had never been tender but lately he'd been downright harsh.

Certainly, Dean could remember how Dad had always made him feel, desperate for approval and terrified of his rejection, but accepting it all the same as if he'd deserved it all along…and as much as he hated himself for it, this John awoke the same emotions. The same thrill that he was doing right when Dad smiled at him and the same sinking in his chest when Dad even looked at him wrong. No one else could cut that deeply with so much ease, or with so little apparent understanding of how much his approval still meant to Dean whether he wanted it to or not. That had been Yellow Eyes' mistake, after all—treating Dean like his son when he should have treated him like a soldier or an incompetent child. If this wasn't Dad...it was a damn good impression.

"It's him," he said. John met his eyes briefly and nodded, which somehow hurt more, though of course there was no way John knew what had really tipped the scales. Dean looked back to Cas. "It's gotta be."

"Very well," Cas said. He sounded unconvinced, but Dean caught a flicker in Cas's eyes of the trust the angel had placed in him—whether rightly or wrongly—since he'd rebelled against Heaven to join Dean in fighting the good fight however many years ago. "But this is not good news."

Not wanting to have any more of this conversation from his knees, Dean began to push himself up, brushing off Benny's helping hands when the vampire tried to grab his upper arm to steady him. By the time he made it to his feet his ribs were throbbing again, and he held his arm gingerly over the ache. He didn't like how vulnerable it made him look, but he supposed by this point all of them had seen him laid bare in one way or another, so there was little sense in hiding it.

"'Course it isn't," John sighed.

Dean scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to make sure he understood. "You think that because my dad's got levi repellent something's protecting him."

"Exactly." Cas nodded, then regarded John, his eyes still narrowed with suspicion. "You said you've been here five years."

"That's what Dean tells me," John said, reaching up to dab at the back of his head again and wincing before adding sardonically, "Days've blurred together a bit on my end."

"Have you encountered leviathans before?" Cas asked.

"Seen 'em, stayed away," John said. "They never came after me."

"They should have," Cas said seriously. "You are a human in a land of monsters. Without me to draw them away they should have descended upon you the minute you arrived. They'd have done so to Dean as well if I hadn't kept them away. Can you think of any reason you'd be protected?"

"Protected?" John snorted. "Look, but I've been fighting for my life since I climbed out of Hell. If I'm protected someone's doing a piss poor job of it."

"Still alive, aren't ya?" Benny asked, drawing a glare from John.

"I'm alive 'cause I can fight," John said dangerously.

"Cas has a point," Dean cut in quickly. The last thing he needed was for John to ask either of his friends if they wanted to test just how well he could fight off a monster. John nodded slightly for Dean to go on, his mouth pressed in a tight line. Dean obliged him. "I mean, if Cas's the only reason I haven't been dealing with leviathans solo this whole time, and those ones back there were running from you…could be you've got some anti-levi mojo you don't know about. I've seen stranger."

"So what does this mean?" John asked, directing the question at no one in particular.

"It could mean a lot of things," Cas said.

"Any of 'em not terrible?" Dean asked.

Cas shook his head. "It's doubful."

"Of course it is," John said again.

Cas shrugged as if to say,  _what do you want me to do_ , and to Dean's surprise the corner of John's mouth turned up in return.

"Well, I can think of one good thing about it," Benny said. "We got ourselves a leviathan-free path outta here. I say we take it while we can."

Dean nodded slightly at Benny. He remembered suddenly that, before any of this crap had happened, all the vampire wanted to do was to get out of here and Dean had been the key to his escape hatch. He certainly hadn't signed up for this, and it was a testament to how good a friend he'd become that he was still going along with it without protest. "We'll manage," he said.

"That's right," John said, "we'll manage."

And as they started down the path, Benny taking the lead while John, Dean, and Cas trailed behind, Dean just hoped to god it was true.


	6. Chapter 6

They traveled several miles in relative silence. As he walked, Dean couldn't help but turn over in his mind his last conversation with his father. He ached to return to it. As painful as talking more would undoubtedly be, at least then it would be over and he could accept whatever judgment Dad might pass on him and move on. Finding Cas had provided a worthwhile distraction, but he knew the strained way they'd left things had to be on his dad's mind as well. But he couldn't think of how to start it up again, especially not with Cas here now, suspicious of not only his father's identity but wary of his treatment of Dean, as well. And of course, there was plenty he wanted to ask Cas about too. He still couldn't understand why his closest friend had let him spin his wheels searching for him for nearly six months, hearing every prayer. But just as Dean dreaded engaging with John where Cas could hear, he also didn't want John seeing how much Cas's actions had shaken his faith in him, and his trust. Not when Dad already doubted his judgment, and he found it hard to believe Cas could say anything that would justify his actions to Dean's satisfaction, let alone to John's. Though oddly enough, he had the impression that Dad actually sympathized  _more_  with Cas than he did.

Still, unsure of what to say, Dean avoided even eye contact with the both of them, choosing instead to walk with Benny at the front of the line. He found himself grateful for the wall the vampire's presence provided between him and Dad and Cas, and the minefields that his relationships with each of them had become. Not wanting to think about it anymore, he spoke with Benny intermittently, making pointless small talk about whether it might rain and the weapons they'd picked up from defeated creatures and Benny's plans once they found the portal and made it out. He knew his dad and Cas were listening in but Benny responded easily, and as the hours passed Dean was surprised to find himself missing the days before they'd found John or Cas. Everything had been so much simpler when it had just been the two of them. Watch each other's backs. Fight creatures. Find Cas. Get the hell out of dodge.

More surprising, though, was when John struck up a conversation with Cas.

"So," he'd asked casually, holding back just long enough the angel could catch up to him. He voice was friendly, but even so Dean stiffened and stopped in mid-sentence to Benny, not sure where this was going or if he was going to have to step in. "You've known Dean a while, then?"

The angel had pondered the question a moment. "I've known Dean for four years," he said, and John nodded.

"Fought together, right?"

"By his side," Cas said. "Yes. Many times."

John nodded. "You seem like a soldier."

"As do you," Cas said.

A few seconds of silence passed, and Dean was starting to feel like he could breath again.

"You know, Dean's mother believed in angels," John said suddenly. Dean glanced at him quickly before looking ahead, feeling almost as if he shouldn't be listening. Hell, had he ever heard Dad describe Mary to someone else? He didn't think so, and he couldn't imagine why he was doing it now. Not when he wasn't even talking to Dean. He shoved down an absurd wave of jealousy. "Believed they were watching over him."

Dean could feel Cas's eyes on his back, though he didn't turn around, not sure what would happen to the moment if he did. Not sure what he wanted to happen. "Then she was a wise person," Cas said softly. "I'm sorry for what happened to her."

"Yeah," John had responded roughly. "So am I."

They walked on.

There were still creatures to waste, but together they dealt with almost all of them handily. Monsters rarely traveled in groups of more than two or three, and between Dean, John, Cas, and Benny, few of Purgatory's denizens had even a fighting chance. The strangest part was what happened after each skirmish—nothing. The first fight they'd had, against a the soul of a ghoul, Benny had grabbed the thing from behind and ducked while John hacked off its head. Dean had reflexively started forward with a protest before catching sight of Cas beside him and remembering that there were no questions to ask. He'd found Cas, for all the good it had done him.

They pressed on until long after the thin daylight had begun filtering through the trees, brightened, and begun to fade again. Dean felt himself flagging. His side still hurt like a bitch, and he was finally reaching the point where it seemed like taking a short rest might be worth admitting that he needed one. But he wasn't there yet and so he gritted his teeth and trudged on, his thoughts drifting back to the days when he'd looked up to John's strength without feeling the weight of his own inadequacy. As a child he remembered wondering if maybe Dad was of a different stock, somehow stronger than regular people, able to come back to their room at dawn ripped half to shreds and still spend the day training Dean, playing with little Sammy, and doing all the mundane things life on the road with two kids required—working odd jobs, hustling, shopping for food and clothes and supplies and the next school district and whatever part the Impala needed that month. Then heading out to hunt again that night. As the hours dragged by, Dean began to wonder if maybe he'd grown too judgmental of all John had done. If maybe, over the years, he'd absorbed Sam's long held sense of injustice and Bobby's growling indictment of John's parenting and hardly stopped to remember why he'd always been loyal in the first place. More than anything, though, he felt weary. He needed a break.

Unfortunately, Purgatory wasn't about to give him that. He'd just slowed and started to turn around to announce his desire to stop to the rest of the group when a soft crash and a snarl sounded from somewhere amidst a dark copse of trees to their left.

"Hellhounds," Cas announced sharply after listening for a few tense seconds. "Several of them."

"Damn it," John said. He'd lifted a long stone blade off a djinn they'd killed hours before and he hefted it before looking across Benny's broad form to Dean. "You okay?"

"Fine," Dean grunted, surprised he'd noticed Dean's discomfort.

The first hellhounds sprung out in a pair. In Purgatory they were dark shaggy beasts with burning eyes, visible and no less terrifying for it. John caught the first one in mid-leap, spearing it through the throat with his blade. The second evaded Benny's swing and headed straight for Cas, while another two charged into the clearing, teeth bared. As with anytime he faced hellhounds Dean had a flash of terror and memory, of a faraway house and a battle he had been fated to lose—but he shoved it down, letting the adrenaline take over once more as he jumped toward the beast closing in on Cas, hacking at its neck with his stone cleaver. The blow glanced off the thing's thick hide, scoring a line of red but seeming to anger it more than slow it down. He ducked as it lunged toward him and evaded its teeth, but its meaty shoulder slammed into him and he lost his balance.

He hit the ground hard, willing himself to ignore the pain that exploded in his side because there were two on Dad and one on Cas. He knew he wasn't going to get to either of them in time but he shoved himself up. He had to try. Cas had stumbled but before the worst could happen Benny leaped forward from somewhere behind him, beheading the huge beast before it could land a crushing bite. He didn't have time to be too grateful to the vampire for saving Cas's life, though, because ten feet away John was yelling as one hellhound jumped on his chest, knocking him on his back, and buried its teeth in his shoulder while the other circled around, effectively blocking Cas or Benny's path to the scene. His own pain forgotten, Dean surged forward, crossed ten feet of underbrush in seconds and hacked at the beast's head and back. After interminable seconds a blow broke through its skull and it collapsed, falling to the side and rolling away from John. Dean stumbled back, panting and gripping his throbbing side. Across the clearing silence Cas drove a blade into the flank of the final hound and it whimpered, twitched, and then went still. Save for their heavy breathing, the forest was silent again.

John was looking up at Dean, his right hand pressed tightly against his left shoulder where the hellhound had dug in its teeth, blood already welling up through his fingers. "You saved me," he noted, and Dean could only nod wearily, finding it impossible to read his father's tone. "Thanks."

"'Course," Dean said simply, then crouched down to get a better look at his father's injury. His hurt ribs protested but he ignored them. John's shoulder was badly torn, bleeding and starting to bruise where the hellhound's jaw had crushed it. "Dad, that looks bad."

"I'm fine," John gritted, then started to push himself up from the ground. His face twisted in pain, and Dean froze for a moment, caught between helping him up and trying to keep him still until he could see the extent of the damage. In the end, he did what he'd always done—that is, what Dad wanted—and supported him up to a sitting position. Cas and Benny came over as he did.

"Dean, are you all right?" Cas was asking. He looked slightly worse for the wear, his coat torn and a new bruise blossoming over his cheek.

"Rough one," Benny remarked.

John stared at the vampire with ill-disguised contempt. Dean looked at him confusedly until he recalled what he'd seen from the ground during the fight. Benny had leapt to Cas's rescue rather than John's even though there had only been one hellhound on the angel. At the time Dean had thought it made sense—Benny had been closer to Cas and it had seemed clear Cas wouldn't have made it if the vampire hadn't stepped in. From John's vantage point, though, Dean could picture a different scene. Benny had had a clear path to the both of them, and had gone to Cas—who was only facing one of the beasts—when John had been cornered and cut off by two. And, Dean realized with a sinking feeling, maybe that wasn't too far off base. He had Benny had spent months risking their lives searching for Cas, and Benny knew how much Cas meant to him. John, on the other hand, he'd known for a week, and had put up with little but glares, snide remarks and distrust.

"Yeah it was," he said, pushing down his doubts and deliberately ignoring Cas's question about his own well-being. "Dad's hurt."

John rolled his eyes at the obvious statement.

Cas, however, looked sympathetic, crouching beside them. "I'll be able to heal you both when we get out," he said. "I'm sorry I can't do more now."

Dean met his eyes, feeling an unexpected surge of affection. "That's okay."

"How far is this portal?" John asked. His voice was tight with pain and his breathing was a little labored but, looking intently between Dean and Benny and Cas, he gave little other indication that his left shoulder was mangled and bloody. Dean shook his head slightly, impressed despite his worry. Of different stock all right.

"Where we are and pace we been going, I reckon two or three more days'll get us there," Benny said, folding his arms and giving a cursory glance at the trees surrounding them. "We're close."

"Can you make it, Dad?" Dean asked.

John nodded hesitantly, flexing his shoulder slightly. Though he paled, he gave a final sharp nod when he was done. "Give this a quick patch job and I'll make it," he said, then searched Dean's face with dark eyes. "What about you?" he asked, nodding at Dean's ribs.

"I'll be fine," Dean said, strangely touched. He felt almost as if the years had fallen away somehow- this was the dad he'd always looked up to, tough as nails and more determined than anyone he had ever met, but still a father enough to slow down for him. As such staying by Dad's side was no longer a set of memories time had twisted into something so complicated he could no longer remember why it had ever made sense. It was simple. Dad was family, and Dad needed him now. "Now hold still," he said, guiding Dad's hand away from the wound. "This won't take long."

* * *

They fell into line again several minutes later, John's shoulder bandaged and his arm tied up in a sling made from Dean's button-down shirt. Benny took the lead again and John fell in line several feet behind him, Dean keeping close to his dad though John was keeping pace, as always, without complaint. Cas brought up the rear but lingered far enough behind them that, for the first time in a long time, Dean almost felt that he and John were alone.

Maybe John felt it too, for after a while he slowed, letting Dean catch up along a wide stretch of trail so they were nearly abreast.

"Shoulder okay?" Dean asked when John turned to look at him.

"Yeah." John snorted softly, then an odd expression crossed his face, as if he'd meant to smile but it got stuck somewhere along the way. He glanced down at Dean's side, which he was still holding gingerly as he walked, then met Dean's eyes again. "Thanks for asking."

"No problem," Dean said, and wondered how to broach the subject he'd now been avoiding for days. To his surprise, John did it first.

"I think we should talk," he said softly."You know. About everything." He watched carefully for Dean's reaction, his brows drawing together.

"You think so?" Dean couldn't help but echo.

John gave him a slightly exasperated, but fond, look. "Yeah, Dean, I do. Before we get out of this place and…" He trailed off, and took a deep breath, wincing when it pulled at his shoulder. "Ah, this hurts like a bitch. But I guess I needed a reminder."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Of what?"

John sighed. "That you're my son, and that you've always been there for me. No matter how wrecked you are yourself. And that will always be good enough."

"Thanks," Dean said, blinking back the swell of emotion that threatened to press forward and show his dad just how much the words really meant. He realized, as he hadn't before, just how much he'd been waiting to hear this.

"So let's do this," John said, and Dean nodded again. "I want to know what happened after I went to Hell."


End file.
